


Membrane

by Fionas Apple (dawnmarie)



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Ghoul, Other, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnmarie/pseuds/Fionas%20Apple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asking me to change is like expecting a scorpion not to sting because you helped it cross a river.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Membrane

**Author's Note:**

> A lonely zombie ponders her existence.

My stomach has been grumbling for the past couple of days. My usual hunting grounds are not the all you can eat buffet that they had been for the last few months. As more of my kind come around, the pickings have become slim. Where once a bounty was is now as dry and arid and desolate as my grandmother's farm during the dust bowl. 

It is lonely out here. Even in this sea of wretched hunger I am alone. I don't know anyone. 

Food.

I'm not a picky eater but brains are the best. The taste is not too dissimilar from tapioca and the small curdled chunks go down what’s left of my esophagus gently, like rain tap tapping on a window pane. I miss the rain. I used to run around in it before all of this happened. I'd be totally soaked but it didn't matter. I felt alive. 

Thinking.

I am not malicious. I don't hate anyone. I don't attack out of spite or out of hatred. I do it because I am what I am. Asking me to change is like expecting a scorpion not to sting because you helped it cross a river. All any of us can be is what we are. Anything else is irrelevant.

I think I am starting to decay. I can't smell or see myself well enough to be sure though. The feeling is more of an instinct. My senses are gone; I noticed this as soon as I changed. All I have left are memories of what once was and the need to eat. 

God I miss wine and fireplaces and going to the theatre. I miss Jeff too. Actually, I am pretty sure that I ate Jeff. I can’t remember much of it other than the screaming and the blood. I always loved horror movies. I just never expected to star in one for real.

The few people that are left call me a Zed. A Freak. A Deadhead. A Walker. A Ghoul. A Zombie.

My mother called me Patricia.

And like everyone and everything else left on this planet, I am slowly dying.

I guess little has ---

 

BANG!!


End file.
